


when levees break

by flowerswhereyouwalk



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anxiety, Everyone gets a bit of Tony, F/F, F/M, M/M, PTSD, Polyamory, Tony Feels, Tony Feels in Capital Letters, plot without porn, unless feelings!Porn counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerswhereyouwalk/pseuds/flowerswhereyouwalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony starts having PTSD flashbacks again.</p><p>(movie spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	when levees break

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic I've written in a hell of a Long Time (maybe ever? not sure), and I'm well aware than the plot is really fuzzy and that it gets kind of half-assed towards the end. the reason there are so many pairings is because I hate leaving people out and I honestly just want everyone to share the tony!angst haha
> 
> enjoy the feels!!

 

 

 

For the first year or two after Afghanistan, all your nights are drenched in cave water, and when you wake up, you still think there's a car battery hooked up to your chest.

It takes a long time and a lot of walls (levees, made of Pepper and gold-titanium alloy and a whole lot of SHIELD) to hold back the flood, but you finally manage it.

 

.

 

And then you're floating, falling through space, away from the nuke you just carried over Manhattan like your fucking _crucifix_ and you can feel water dripping down your neck and your throat and your lungs and you can't breathe and then- fuck-

 

.

 

Shawarma, of all things, and the look on Cap's face and the sheer relief rolling off of Bruce's shoulders are what ground you, for the time being, until you're asleep next to Pepper and you wake up choking up water.

You're thrashing and the barely-conscious logical part of your brain is telling you that if you're going to roll of the damn bed, roll away from Pep, don't wake her up, fuck, she'll probably, fuck, leave, okay. On the floor, you shiver for what seems like an hour, passing off waves of nausea until you can believe for a second that you're not in a cave, that you're not being fucking waterboarded at four in the morning. This isn't working very well, so you enlist the help of your favourite ~~robot~~ person ever.

"Jarvis?" You croak.

"It's 3:56 AM on the 5th of May, 2012. You're on the floor of the first penthouse bedroom in New York-" and that's not smug, you don't know what that is, it's too early for this.

Something not unlike relief (but more like submission) washes over you, the water and the car battery are gone, and all you have time to think is _sometimes I forget how great of an artist I am_ before you pass out.

 

.

 

Of course, when you wake up, Phil Coulson is breaking into your fucking _skyscraper_ , and the flood is pushed to the recesses of your mind again, there are more important things to worry about, like how much of an asshole Fury is and the surprising amount of emotion Coulson shows when he leans in and whispers "Life Model Decoys, bitch."

.

 

Your second relapse is two nights later, and you're not sure, but you might've woken Pepper this time, but she doesn't mention anything in the morning, and thank god, because you're barely thinking about it. The third is a spilling water cooler (what kind of self-respecting government organization still has _water coolers?)_ in a SHIELD hallway, thankfully situated near a bathroom where you can wait out the flashbacks and the sickness that tags along. 

You're also fairly sure that there are cameras everywhere, and, well, that's _great_ , if this isn't setting off an alarm for you, it definitely will be for someone else, Tony Stark having a freakout in a bathroom stall. They know you're not exactly sober, but they also know that you haven't taken anything hard in _years_ , you know they have psychologists here, they'll be watching.

Fuck.

 

.

 

One morning you get up and you've lost count, it doesn't matter, it's not like it's as bad as the first time around. You're pretty sure you haven't thrown up as much. You're not dying or anything, you'll be fine.

Pep's making coffee, apparently some people like to do things the old fashioned way, or something like that, and you're barely awake and- and suddenly all you can hear is the dripping, and you can feel it, that's not coffee, that's cold, that's dirty, it hurts, it's in your lungs, it's, fuck-

"Tony."

Your eyes open, you're in the kitchen, that's Pepper, but you can still feel the cold water on your forehead and there's bile in your throat and your mug is on the ground, thank fuck you engineered that shit to be unbreakable, you're forgetting something, there's cold coffee touching your bare foot so you jump back and _fuck-_

 __"Tony, what's-"

When you look up, she freezes, probably because your eyes are blown and you might be hyperventilating through your mouth, fuck, um, say something, autopilot, you asshole, and it's apparently not working out very well because all you say is "What."

"I don't know, I'm the one asking you!" And you'd forgotten how her voice gets when she's nervous and you feel guilty and you just need to _autopilot_ or you're probably going to start crying and that would be thousands of times worse, so your mouth says "Uh, I'm um, I'm fine" when you're obviously not.

Pepper gives you the Look, but there's some Worry in there, too, that's the worst combo. Fuck.

"Tony."

"Pepper." You deadpan, wow, apparently you can still be an asshole when you're recovering from a PTSD flashback, and hey, that label stings, let's forget about it, you don't like it.

"You're not fine."

All you can really do is give her the Other Look, and you're still kind of blanking out and all of a sudden she's walked away and you're standing alone, in the kitchen, with coffee all over the fucking place and you just, you just-

The days are blurring together. 

You're tired.

You want a drink, so you get one, and wow, you're never going to learn, are you?

 

.

 

Natasha, of all people, sends you a threateningly concerned text a day later from somewhere in Bolivia, asking if you need anybody to talk to, and also specifying that she isn't up for that (you agree, someone would end up dead or maimed) but could recommend a couple of people who aren't actual therapists, because confidentiality is important when you're an Avenger, and also, therapists kind of suck.

You're still brushing this aside a bit, so you decide to focus on _how the fuck does Natasha know_ , and Pepper chooses this time to walk into the bedroom and say "We need to talk" at the exact same time you say "You know this is really weird because-" and she gives you the Look. Not exactly going as planned, okay.

"You know you need to do something about this, okay, because-" Pepper takes a deep breath and her look softens, like, marginally. "Because I love you and I can tell you're not doing okay but- I really can't. Not right now, and I get the feeling this is the kind of thing I can't help you with, so just. Find someone to help, Tony."

You look at your hands. You look at Pepper. You inhale and there's no water (yet) and you give in. Because it's Pepper. 

"Sure, I-" you sigh. "Yeah, Pep, okay. Per to the Agreement?"

(The Agreement is this great thing where you and your girlfriend each have an understanding about the others' needs, when it comes to, what's it called, intimacy, relationships, all that shit. You're both willing to share, to say the least.)

"Yeah, per to the Agreement."

"Speaking of which-" and wow, she tensed up fast, way to change topics there, Stark. "Are you doing okay? You know, dealing with me, uh, dealing with this, that thing."

Pepper blushes. 

Weird.

"I've been meaning to tell you, I mean, yes, I'm doing fine, someone's… helping me out."

You stare.

It clicks. 

"Pepper! You're banging _Natasha_ , holy shit!"

She blushes harder.

Your former personal assistant (who you are banging) is banging _her_ former personal assistant.

Your life is weird. You just like the word banging.

 

.

 

You text Natasha back. She gives you some names.

They're not the names you're expecting.

 

.

 

So you ask Bruce if he wants to get coffee sometime.

By get coffee, you mean "come up to my penthouse and let my artificial intelligence make us coffee", because what's the point? You live in the same building.

He looks at you for a minute, eyes flicking down to where your hand is kind of shaking, and you know Natasha had to have said something, or he's just really, _really_ good, but fuck, you knew that already.

 

.

 

Bruce helps, that's the thing, he helps a _lot_. He keeps you calm and rational and you're still having nightmares and flashbacks, but you're drinking less, and Pepper knows who to call when you start to shake in the middle of the night. Jarvis knows, too, and sometimes Pepper wakes up in the morning to the adorable sight of Bruce wrapped around you like an octopus, and everyone is pretty awesome, by your standards. 

And then Bruce has to go on this stupid science-conference thing and you have business things to attend to and SHIELD things to deal with and you're apart, right, for a whole two weeks.

You make it a couple days, and then on a Thursday morning, you awake to Dummy poking you incessantly, and, wow, you're on the floor of the lab with a killer hangover and sweat dripping down your- okay, you need to meditate for a minute, that's, okay, yeah. Breathe, you asshole.

And then you call Steve.

Because Natasha gave you more than one name, and okay, yeah, you've been avoiding this one, because it's _Steve_ , you don't get along perfectly or anything, but Natasha said he'd get this, and, well. You thought you were done with the hangover thing for a while, honestly.

So you call Steve.

"Yeah?"

"Hey." Your voice hasn't rasped like that for weeks. Fuck.

"Tony, are you-"

"Can you just- I'm in my lab, Jarvis will let you in, are you free, I mean, I hope so, America and all that, freedom- um, yeah-" 

"Sure, I'll be right there," and he hangs up, thank god.

You want to melt back into the floor, but you're pretty sure there's, uh, spilled rum, that's a Bad Idea if you've ever seen one, so you grab on to some stable part of Dummy's frame and drag yourself over to the couch. 

 

.

 

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that there's a body pressed into your side, and that it's warm, and noticeably larger than Pepper. And your neck hurts and you still feel kind of hungover.

"Jarvis, how long was I out?" You ask, still reluctant to open your eyes. This is pretty nice.

"7 hours, sir."

"You woke up once, though." And _that's_ enough to get you to open your eyes, hello, awake person next to you, and you are hit with the sudden realization that you are pretty much _cuddling with Captain America._

"Uh."

Well, Tony, that was eloquent. Way to go. You blink a couple times. Steve smiles at you.

"You passed out right after you called me."

"So… you watched me sleep."

"Once I sat down, you pretty much fell on me, so yes, Tony, I watched you sleep."

You stare. He raises his eyebrows. Ah. You look at your hands.

"You said I woke up?" 

"You, uh, you were shaking. And not breathing right. I've seen it before, in the war, I mean. I calmed you down. You went back to sleep." Steve looks serious, and you know this conversation isn't about cuddling anymore. 

So you explain.

"I have, these, fuck, you know, flashbacks? I was in Afghanistan, and there was, there was water, and…"

 

.

 

He listens.

Every time, he listens, and where Bruce is an architect of levees, Steve is the flood relief, holding you and wrapping himself around you and whispering the right words while you sob. 

 

.

 

When Bruce gets back, you have both of them.

 _And_ Pepper.

Damn, you're lucky.

 

.

 

So you build your walls back up. You can take showers without having panic attacks again, and when you do, you have people to shower _with_ , and someone is always there to hold back the flood, to hold you tight, to help you focus on the present, to sigh "Oh, Tony," and kiss you softly.

 

.

 

You hear a lot of the phrase "I love you". In a past life, you would've found it cheesy, but this time, you love everyone else, too.

And you make it known.

 

.

 

It's one hell of a media fiasco.

It's totally worth it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [when levees break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/445000) by [darlingsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingsweet/pseuds/darlingsweet)




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